Today! The 23rd of April at 12 pm ET - Eastern Summer Time (New York Time): We will be having our second recording of The Delicate Art of Raising Thestrals read by Sam Gabriel.

I look forward to meeting you at the recording tomorrow at discord dot gg / BNMEXM9RBB

Audiobook of Chapters 1 & 2 Available for All: samgabrielvo dot com/artcasts

Chapter 21 - The Night Between Us

Sirius watched James pace and felt like he was taking all of Sirius's anxiety and embodying it.

Remus was using his recovery from his moon cycle as an excuse to be absent.

Minerva's missive that Harry had been abducted by Aurors and interrogated at the Ministry, followed by an episode of accidental magic, had not been taken well.

Harry was with Poppy now and he would be returning here to Malcolm's home tomorrow. That was the only assurance keeping James from completely going off the handle.

"Come on, let's go for a walk, Prongs," Sirius said, leading his best friend out of the cottage.

The night was cold but the waning moon still painted the cliffsides in silver-blue shadows.

"I'm going to kill them!" James growled.

Sirius remained silent, as if watching another let loose allowed him some clarity.

James yelled into the night, "If Lily were here, she would have burned down the Ministry!"

Lily had enjoyed fire, Sirius thought before sighing.

He was too tired to be angry.

And he was angry, but with no one to direct it at while knowing Harry was in the hospital wing again. He felt… drained.

"We'll see him tomorrow. There's nothing more that we can do but hold our shit together. Harry is having these spurts of accidental magic because he holds all his emotion in. And he will hold it all in if he sees us losing it."

James glared at him, "We are not your parents."

He met his friend's gaze boldly, shoving down the memories of his mother screaming at him and his father's silence, as if upon failing expectations Sirius had ceased being his son.

Ceased to exist.

Reggie had had to fill the role meant for Sirius, and where Orion and Walburga had treated Sirius's curiosity with the outside world with violence, they had lavished Regulus with every benefit the rich could heap upon their heir.

It wasn't love, it was bribery. Sirius had been the example of the stick, and their parents spoiling him had been the carrot.

Regulus had let himself be manipulated, but like Harry with his cousin, Sirius didn't blame him.

He pitied his little brother, and he was sorry that he had not found a way to save him.

"No, James, we are not like the Blacks, but the Dursleys were. Petunia and her boar of a husband were arrested for willful child neglect and abusing their own son's physical and psychological development. Harry will do exactly what I did, bury all the hurt and anger until it bursts out of him."

James looked away, "He's not a victim, he wasn't supposed to be a man at fifteen, he was just supposed to be a normal child."

"I know, but normal never really liked us, did it?"

James shook his head. "If I could kill Peter again, I would."

"You know, Harry stopped Remus and me from killing Peter."

James's shoulders dropped, "He is a better person than any of us."

Sirius smiled, "That he is. He's the best of you and Lily. Do you know what he told me when I had Peter at wand-point?"

"No, but I can imagine you saying something along the lines of wanting to kill the man you were imprisoned for murdering."

Sirius barked a laugh, "You know me too well, old friend. Harry, on the other hand, is more complex than anyone gives him credit for. He said you and Lily wouldn't have wanted us to resort to murder."

James looked away, "I take it you didn't tell him what we did in the war then?"

"No, I didn't."

"Why didn't you kill Peter when you escaped Azkaban when you know Lily and I would have approved."

Sirius stared up at the moon, "Because Harry didn't want me to. And it matters to me what he thinks, even if I will never live up to his ideal of me."

"I will never be what he needs," James said.

"You don't know that. You don't know that at all. You don't know him well enough to make that call."

James took a breath, "I'm sorry, you're right."

"Don't worry about it, and you are free to break down now. But when he gets here, I'd rather not make him feel compelled to take care of us."

Prongs sighed.

)O(

They walked on, the wind seeming to blow through them, chilling skin and bone.

It felt good against James's skin.

It felt like an anchor.

"It's so beautiful," Sirius breathed, as they came to a crest in the path, looking down the mountainsides, a river rushing toward a lake.

It was beautiful, serene and unreal in its picturesque purity of rock, dusting of snow on shrubs, and glittering water.

It must have been breathtaking in Sirius's eyes, to a man who spent over a decade in a dark hole.

Sirius looked at him, "James?"

He blinked, "It is lovely."

Sirius cocked his head to the side, "You're not here, are you?"

He sighed, "I'm real, Padfoot."

"I know you are real, I meant you're not here in the moment. I get caught in nightmares, in the pain, all the time in my mind. Do you get caught in your grave?"

James's breath caught and he looked away. He continued on the path ahead.

"Prongs?"

His shoulders stiff, he responded in a tone that he knew was defensive, "And He — I pushed — with sudden force —

In face of the Suspense —

'Was buried' — 'Buried!' 'He!'

My Life just holds the Trench —"

Sirius huffed, jogging to catch up to him, "I thought you hated Dickenson. You hated memorizing her work. You said it was painful to flirt with."

James almost smiled at the memory of the morbidness his Lily had loved. She had understood sorrow and pain beyond her experience.

When death took James's parents, then hers, when their friends had begun to die, it was Lily who remained standing tall, unbowed.

Her heart and soul had known what life would bring them, and she had not flinched away from taking any joy she could from the world.

Their marriage had been dear to her, despite its ruin.

Their pregnancy had been happily anticipated, despite the war.

"Come on, James, don't shut down on me."

James took a breath and then continued reciting the poem Lily had read for her own parent's funeral, "Pain has but one Acquaintance

And that is Death —

Each one unto the other

Society enough."

Sirius made a noise of protest but James went on.

"Pain is the Junior Party

By just a Second's right —

Death tenderly assists Him

And then absconds from Sight."

"You done?"

"Yes."

"Death and pain, huh?"

"It seems that's all that surrounds me," James said. "Harry is not okay."

"He's thriving, actually," Sirius countered.

James looked at him sharply, "Minerva, Albus, and half the country think he's an Obscurus."

Sirius huffed, "Voldemort has done something to his magical core, and he is suffering an injury. But he has dreams, James. He has hope. He's not afraid to let new people into his life. He's teaching, helping others, and most importantly, he's helping himself."

"So, he's not Remus," James retorted.

Sirius grimaced, "He's not Remus. Yes, but what's important to realize is that despite everything he's going through, he still wants his future, he is still young and falling in love. And I think Luna and Harry will have a more sickeningly sweet and fairytale-esque romance than you and Lily."

"They do appear to be in tune with each other. I haven't heard many stories about them being apart."

Sirius agreed, "The way Harry writes about her…"

James's heart arched; Harry sent more letters to his godfather than his father.

Sirius seemed at a loss how to phrase it for a time before saying, "The way you talk about Lily, is like something out of a Jane Austin novel (which I still can't believe you squirrelled me into reading)."

"You enjoyed Pride and Prejudice, Padfoot, I know you did," James teased halfheartedly.

)O(

Sirius nearly shoved him down the rocky slope, "Harry isn't that type of romantic. He's sweet, tooth-rottenly sweet, but he's also a dork. And they are dorks together. They are like best friends who admire each other so much they can call it love."

"Soul mates," James said simply.

Sirius sighed, "I don't believe in that shit, however, if anyone… I don't know, they just seem to work."

"He loves her though?" James asked.

"Yes."

"And she loves him?"

"A friendship that deep could be nothing but love."

"Then, that's everything, that's all that has and will ever matter."

Sirius had never known love like that, but in James, he had a friend like that.

"You alright, Padfoot?"

He blinked back tears, "I'm just so happy you're alive, that Harry's alive, that I didn't fuck up everything."

James halted. He turned and put his hands on Sirius's shoulder, "Listen to me, Sirius. What happened with Peter was not your fault."

He tried to twist away, "Don't—"

James dug his fingers in, "Sirius, you've spent every day regretting what happened, but for me? It's only been a few months. I was there. Lily and I made the choice not to trust Dumbledore. Lily and I chose to mistrust Remus. Lily and I trusted Peter; he took our wands."

"But I was the one who—"

"Who mistrusted the man trying to get himself killed?" James challenged. "Sirius, Remus was never an option for the Secret Keeper because he was constantly throwing himself into danger. We couldn't even have told him if we knew for certain that he wasn't the spy. I never doubted you which is no mistake at all, doubting Albus was our mistake, and not doubting Peter was our mistake. If you are guilty, then Lily and I are guilty as well. But guilt no longer serves us, Peter is dead and Harry is still here."

Sirius felt the tears fall, "We missed everything, we missed his whole life."

James pulled him into an embrace, "He will be home tomorrow, and we'll be home for Christmas." His voice cracked, "Lily is gone, those years are gone. But Harry isn't and we aren't. We can't give him back those years but we can give him all that we have left."

Sirius stepped back, not allowing himself to cry.

James was the one who should be broken down, not him. Even if Sirius knew logically, it was a miracle that Azkaban hadn't stolen every fibre of him.

Like it had to Bella.

They were circling back to the cottage when James asked out of the blue, "Have you spoken to Remus about your eternal crush on him?"

"No," Sirius said flatly.

James hummed and Sirius was already bracing himself for the typical scheming he and Lily had done while playing matchmaker.

"I admit, the caterpillar above his lip seems like it was purposely designed to be unattractive," he goaded. "But he's still good old Moony—"

"Enough! James, enough!" Sirius yelled, heart, twisting in his chest. "I can't love a man who hates himself. Who hates everything about himself, including loving me, I can't— I can't."

James stared at him, "Alright."

Sirius deflated, "I'm sorry."

James shook his head, "No, I'm sorry."

"I just—"

"I get it. I was only joking."

"Okay," Sirius said quietly, hating himself for the tone in James's voice.

James had, after all, only been trying to lighten the mood.

It felt as if they were all still children, pretending to be adults. As if time had stopped and spurted forward for them, a scratched record skipping the chorus lines, leaving them without structure or direction.

Yet, when they got inside and Malcolm welcomed them with tea, his jade green meeting Sirius's tired gaze with a warm smile, he sort of hoped they would be okay.

They would be okay if their family grew, if they were permanently taken in by people who would never run away.

oOo

First Two Chapters read for you at Samgabrielvo dot com/artcasts

oOo

Please join us today for a recording of The Delicate Art of Raising Thestrals at discord dot gg / BNMEXM9RBB

oOo

AN: Discord, golden eagles, or feedback, pretty please?